


The Hanlon Farm Pumpkin Patch

by adhddyke



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe- Modern Setting - Freeform, Alternate Universe- No Pennywise, Dialogue Heavy, Fluff, Halloween, I am Stanlon's lesbian mother, It might not even be October yet but eat me I wanted to write this, Just Mike and Stan being cute, Kid Fic, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Stanlon - Freeform, Stanlon Fluff, Very small references to racism, at least at first, fuck that trick ass bitch, sorry I mostly write screenplays outside of fan stuff so it's always dialogue, that's it that's the fic, the working title for this was 'Mike the Pumpkin Man and Stan' because it rhymed lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 11:48:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20723720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adhddyke/pseuds/adhddyke
Summary: The Halloween-theme Stanlon fic wherein the Hanlon farm has the best pumpkin patch in Maine come autumn and Stan comes every year on Halloween. This is the only time Mike gets to speak with him, at least until they’re old enough to have phones and communicate themselves. Still, despite speaking just once a year, they can’t help but feel incredibly close. (Fuck summaries basically it’s Halloween get-together fluff.)





	The Hanlon Farm Pumpkin Patch

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy! I spent way too long on this but I really wanted to write it! Lots of kid and Halloween stuff I guess because I'm probably trying to regress in my fear of starting at uni in a week haha shoot me blease 
> 
> Anyway yeah this is straight-up fluff, hope it's not OOC or anything, ngl felt a bit cringe rereading some of it but alas I hate anything I write anyway

**Age: Six**

The first time Mike Hanlon sees Stanley Uris, they are both six. Stanley is short and skinny, almost sickly in appearance, and he is holding hands with both parents, walking towards the Hanlon farm with a deadly serious look on his face. And Mike thinks, this boy probably has a good taste in pumpkins and I would like to introduce him to all my favourite sheep. 

** **

The Hanlon farm is generally not just open to visitors (not with the Bowers, that family Mike has been warned to avoid since he was born, living so nearby) but when the leaves browned the pumpkins were in their prime. The Hanlons grew the best pumpkins in all of Derry, Maine- in all of Maine, in fact, as they had won the Maine Farmer's Fall Fest competition on pumpkins every year without fail since they moved to the state. Thus the Hanlons, not exactly the wealthiest family in Derry, took full advantage of their talents and opened up their pumpkin patch the second the sun stopped setting so late. And this year, now that Mike is six and thus Old, he gets to help out. 

** **

Truth be told, Mike does not get to celebrate Halloween much. This is the closest thing to celebrating he has ever done. Mike is one of the only black children in Derry, a relatively close-minded town. He can't exactly go trick or treating, as much as he wants to. Last year, he tried to go as a sheet-ghost like they joke about in the comics and on television; after all, the other people wouldn't recognise him. But it was not to be, and Mike watched old Hammer movies on the television with his dog instead as his mother ran the pumpkin patch and his father chased off anybody trying to hurt them. 

** **

But here's this other boy on Halloween night who is at the Hanlon farm instead of all the richest houses in Derry, and Mike is a bit excited. 

"I don't want a large one," the skinny boy with curly hair tells his parents, frowning slightly. "It'll be too obvious if I make a mistake."

"You're very careful, Stan," the boy's mother assures him. "You won't make a mistake."

"I don't want a large one," the boy repeats, and Mike notices how put-together this Stan looks, with his shirt tucked in and his hair combed. It's a good thing, probably. 

"You don't have to get a large one," the father says. 

** **

"How can I help you, Mr Uris?" Mike's daddy is asking, and Mike stops watching the boy. 

"We just wanted a couple of pumpkins for carving," Stan's father answers. "Don't have to taste good, then. And my boy would like a smaller one."

"How come you're not trick or treating?" Mike questions, and Stan stares at him. 

"Michael," his mom chastises, and Mike mumbles an apology. 

"It's okay," Stan's mother says easily. "Stan's been ill recently, and he doesn't much like strangers besides." 

"What are you gonna carve?" Mike asks, and he wishes his parents would trust him with a carving knife. 

"A bird," Stan replies, his pupils seeming to dilate, a small smile on his face. It seems he doesn't mind one stranger- that thought makes Mike happy. "I don't know what kind yet."

"I like birds alright," Mike grins. "You should do a crow. Since it's Halloween."

"Yes," Stan agrees, seeming much more at ease than when he had entered. "Okay. I'll do a crow. And I like birds alright too." 

** **

**Age: Seven**

"Do you still like birds?" Mike asks Stanley Uris the following year at the Hanlon farm pumpkin patch, remembering the boy surprisingly well for his age. Stan seems taller now, and a little less thin. When Stan nods shyly, Mike continues. "My daddy made me a carving of a bird for my last birthday."

"What type of bird?" Stan questions, speaking a little faster, which Mike thinks means he's excited. 

"A wren," Mike answers. "I like wrens because they look kinda funny." 

"That's the first bird in my bird book!" Stan almost gushes. "Can I see it?" 

"Well, I'll ask my daddy if you can come in, and you ask yours," Mike is thrilled. Halloween is suddenly an actual holiday, and Mike suddenly has a sort-of friend. 

** **

It doesn't take much convincing; both Mike and Stan are relatively lonely children, and their parents respected each other well enough to not be suspicious about it. It is rare for Stan to immediately trust a stranger like he does Mike, and it is rare for Mike to be so forward when making a friend. But while the Urises and the Hanlons respect each other, they aren't exactly friends, and no playdates will be scheduled. But for tonight it's a happy sight to them. 

** **

"It's very realistic," Stan compliments, pronouncing that long word slowly and carefully. The wren is carved from a dark wood and has clearly been polished with an artist's precision. It almost seems to move in Mike's hand. 

"You can hold it," Mike allows, and Stan seems grateful, giving the other boy a larger smile than normal. He taps the top of the wooden wren's head, somewhat nervous, afraid of breaking something despite being one of the least clumsy children imaginable, before taking it in his hands. 

"Did you give it a name?" Stan asks, and Mike feels too warm. Quietly, he answers the question, his eyes on the floor.

"I called it 'Stan'."

** **

**Age: Eight **

Mike stares at the paper crane in his hands. It's Halloween again, and the Uris family has returned. Stan has brought him a gift, a paper crane, except it's not standard paper like in his school exercise books or even in the actual Bible. It's a red paper with gold patterning and it all feels very smooth and silky to the touch. 

"Do you like it?" Stan asks. "I took a book out of the school library on origami a few months ago. I practiced lots- for a half hour every day at five o'clock, right after homework. Sorry if it isn't very good." 

"It's great," Mike beams. "Thank you!" 

"You have to name it," Stan tells him. 

"I'm going to call it 'Stan'," Mike replies, staring down at the paper crane affectionately. It's a little too large for his child's hand. 

"You called the wren 'Stan'," Stan protests. 

"They're both 'Stan'," Mike argues. 

"Fine," Stan relents. "I'm carving a wren into the pumpkin when I get home. I'm going to call it 'Mike'." 

"Fair enough," Mike shrugs. 

** **

They walk around the pumpkin patch for a while as their parents converse, and Stan does not mind the mud on his shoes, even though they're his favourite pair, the ones he wears on special occasions. They look the same as all his other pairs, since it's the only make of shoe he buys, but they're less worn. 

"Why do we only see each other when it's Halloween?" Stan complains as the two compete to see who can stand on one leg for longer. Then he topples over, and fully trips when his foot lands on a pumpkin, thudding to the slightly damp mud. Mike stops balancing to help Stan up. 

"I win!" Mike declares, and with a playful eye roll Stan passes him the spinning top he has in his pocket, rightfully won by Mike. "And I don't know. But next Halloween, I'm going to ask daddy if you can meet the sheep."

** **

**Age: Nine **

This year when Stan arrives at the Hanlon farm, it's a bit earlier in the day, and Mike notices that the other boy is actually in costume, dressed as a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle- Donatello, the purple one, which is Mike's favourite. 

"You're dressed as Donatello," Mike says when Stan gets closer. 

"He's the best one because he's smart," Stan tells him. 

"Totally!" Mike exclaims, and then corrects himself. "Turtle-y!" 

"Gross," Stan wrinkles his nose, but he's smiling. 

"Are you trick or treating this year, then?" Mike questions, and doesn't recognise the jealousy curling up in his stomach. 

"My friend Richie is forcing me to go with these other kids, Eddie and Bill. Group costume," Stan explains, not sounding thrilled. "But I'm carving my pumpkin before that." 

"You keep buying them bigger every year," Mike notes. "It makes me kinda proud. One year, I hope I can go trick or treating with you, too." 

"Maybe," Stan says. "But I'd rather we just hang around and watch scary movies maybe. We can just buy candy." The thought of Stan wanting to spend time with him makes Mike giddy. 

** **

"You promised to show me the sheep," Stan reminds him. "I'd like to see them, so long as you haven't named them all 'Stan'."

"That name is reserved for birds only," Mike teases. "Come on! Sheep aren't especially Halloween-y, but I think they're pretty neat. A bird-sheep hybrid would be the best thing for us, huh? Cute." 

"A bird-sheep hybrid would be terrifying," Stan corrects. "Congrats on making sheep Halloween-y." 

** **

Surprisingly, Stan seems somewhat unsettled by the sheep, who have all turned their heads to stare at him, calling out to him. Mike wonders if Stan has ever seen sheep before, since he had been so eager to meet them.

"And that's Benny, and that's Achilles, and that's Angel…" Mike lists, pointing at this sheep and that. He knows them well. They're his closest friends. They also know too many of his secrets- all of his secrets, in fact. If there was a secret sheep espionage mission going on, Mike had done them a major solid. 

"They're all, uh, very fluffy," Stan manages, and Mike is pretty sure Stan is shaking. 

"I guess they are Halloween-y!" Mike gasps. "Why are you scared?" 

"I don't like their eyes," Stan mumbles, going red. "They don't look normal."

"But they're harmless," Mike disputes. "Though they do look a bit funny, I guess." 

"They're harmless as far as you're aware," Stan announces, which makes Mike laugh. 

** **

When Mike unlocks the gate, he hears Stan suppress a squeal. But he takes Stan's hand, and feels the other boy relax, before leading him into the sheep pen. Carefully, having forgotten too many times already, Mike closes the gate with his free hand. He sets himself down amongst the lambs, tugging at Stan's hand, an invitation to do the same. Hesitantly, Stan joins him. Practiced, Mike grabs a lamb and sets it down over his and Stan's laps. 

"Pet it," Mike instructs, and Stan blinks at him. "Come on, he's sweet. You remember his name?" 

"Cherub," Stan recalls- he has a gifted memory. Mike hadn't really expected to get the right answer, but getting it makes him overjoyed. 

"Pet Cherub," Mike says, and runs his own hand over the lamb. Again, Stan blinks at him. With a melodramatic huff, Mike takes Stan's hand again, and then pets Cherub with their joined hands, making Stan freeze up at first before he relaxes. "Not so bad, is it?" Stan begins to stroke the lamb by himself. 

"Maybe I overreacted," Stan admits. "Thank you." 

** **

Now that Stan is acquainted with the sheep, Mike decides it's time to give the other boy the gift that has been weighing so heavily in his pocket. 

"I made this for you," Mike announces, and presses it into Stan's hand. "My dad's teaching me." The wood carving is certainly less expertly made than the wren Mike's daddy made. In fact, it's ridden with errors, and it's highly disproportionate. "It's a gray jay." Stan loves it nonetheless. 

"It's the best thing ever," Stan decides. "Thank you. It must've taken ages." 

"You really like it?" Mike is relaxing a bit, staring happily into Stan's face, where the green face paint is already beginning to smear and fade. 

"Of course I do," Stan replies, not adding the implied 'you made it'. "I've already got a name picked out and everything." 

"Oh?" Mike prompts, and Stan grins at him as he pets a sheep sleeping next to him. When he smiles, he cracks the face paint more, and Mike notices the missing tooth on his bottom row of teeth. 

"Yeah," Stan says. "I'm calling it 'Mike'." 

** **

**Age: Ten**

When Mike is ten, he doesn’t see Stanley Uris at the pumpkin patch. 

“Stan’s not feeling very well,” Stan’s mother explains to him when he asks after the other boy. “He tried to come anyway, though. But he asked us to give you this.” Mrs Uris passes Mike a wood carving, perhaps even worse than Mike’s own, made to look like a sheep. 

“Tell him ‘thanks’ and that it’s called ‘Stan’,” Mike replies, grinning. The sheep is definitely Cherub, Mike is sure of it. “And give him this.” Mike had made another wood carving himself, this one a raven with a jack-o-lantern for a head, to celebrate how they were friends. 

“Well that’s very nice of you, Mike.” 

** **

Mike misses Stan. Halloween no longer feels like Halloween; maybe he couldn’t go trick-or-treating, but he could always rely on seeing Stan. That’s a tradition for him now.

** **

**Age: Eleven **

Mike spends the year saving his money, earning extra dollars doing more work around his own farm as well as his neighbours’ (though never the Bowers farm). Sometimes he sells newspapers or mows lawns around Derry. He does what he can and he buys himself his first phone, which is more of a brick than anything trendy, and it’s certainly not a Blackberry. But it is loaded with texting credit and that’s all he needs- the chance to talk to Stan outside of Halloween. 

** **

When Stan arrives, it’s without his parents but with three other children Mike doesn’t recognise. Stan’s tall for his age now, but two of these stranger-boys are taller, maybe of a height with Mike. The last boy is tiny, though, and clutches an aspirator in his hand. One of the taller boys has coke-bottle glasses that make his eyes bulge out like a bug’s, and the other tall boy seems to slouch. Mike feels the need to hate them, but he isn’t sure why. 

“Hi, Mike,” Stan greets. “I thought you should know I named the raven ‘Mike’.” 

“That’s a nice name,” Mike replies. “Who’re these people?”

“Richard Tozier, pleasure to make thon acquaintance,” Glasses says before Stan can answer, extending his hand, which Mike shakes. 

“That’s a bad British accent,” Mike tells him. “And what is ‘thon’?”

“Yowza,” ‘Richard’ says. “‘Course Stan’s friend is gonna be mean, mean, mean.”

“Ignore Richie,” Stan tells Mike. “He didn’t get enough attention as a baby.” 

“Present tense, Stan; he’s still a baby now,” the short boy adds. “I’m Eddie Kaspbrak.” 

“Mike Hanlon,” Mike introduces himself. 

“We know,” the last boy says, with a stutter and a grin. “I’m Bill.” 

“They don't know,” Stan insists. “He’s lying. They’re all liars.” 

** **

“Why are you all here, anyway?” Mike asks. All he knows about this group is that they dressed up as the Ninja Turtles when they were nine, and he’s never actually seen Stan with anybody other than his parents before. 

“My parents said they aren’t going to buy me pumpkins anymore, and I have to get any myself, because I’m older now,” Stan explains. Mike focuses on him, ignoring the way Richie is trying to hit Eddie with one of the smaller pumpkins, and Bill is picking up a worm (Mike hopes he doesn’t eat it). “But I can also do what I want at Halloween now. So we’re going to the quarry to tell scary stories. Bill’s good at that.” 

“That sounds fun,” Mike is feeling jealous again, but he’s not sure why. 

“I’m glad you think so,” Stan replies, “because we came to ask if you’d come with. I can show you how to carve a pumpkin, if you like.” 

** **

Within twenty minutes, the five of them are cycling to the quarry, Bill in the lead with his large, fast bike, although it’s Richie and Eddie who are trying to race there (and are falling behind the most frequently). Stan and Mike cycle next to each other, maintaining a sensible pace, a pumpkin in each of their baskets. 

“I bought a phone,” Mike tells Stan. 

“Does it have games on it? Sometimes my father lets me play sudoku on his,” Stan questions. 

“I think it has Snake,” Mike answers, shrugging as best as he can without lifting his hands from the bike. He isn’t so great a risk taker as that. 

“I’m bad at Snake,” Stan comments. “I get frustrated with it.”

“I think I’m alright at it,” Mike says. “I haven’t played it much though. Mostly I got a phone to text.”

“Oh,” Stan replies. “Who do you text?” Surprisingly, he sounds almost jealous as well. 

“Nobody yet,” Mike admits. “I was hoping you have one?” 

“I’m not allowed a phone until I’m thirteen,” Stan tells him, sounding disappointed. Something dies in Mike. There go his hopes, scattered to the winds like their precious birds. “You’ve got plenty of time to get better at Snake, then.”

“What’s this about snakes?” Richie interrupts, cycling past the two again. Mike dreads the way the other boy’s eyebrows waggle. “Bet mine’s biggest. Just ask Eddie’s mom.” Mike laughs despite himself, and Stan launches his pumpkin at Richie, knocking the boy off of his bike so he lands in the grass, tearing his jeans. The pumpkin splits. 

“Biiiiiiill! Edddddddds! Miiiiiiiiiiike! Stan’s trying to kill me,” Richie cries out.

“Good,” Eddie exclaims, but he says it as he’s helping Richie up. 

“Sorry, no hablo ingles,” Bill adds.

“I’m sorry,” Stan says. “I’m sorry I ruined the pumpkin.” 

“Carve Richie instead,” Mike suggests, and the five laugh again. It’s a sound Mike thinks he could get used to- only Stan doesn’t have a phone. 

** **

Indeed, Bill is good at telling scary stories. He doesn’t stutter when he does voices for characters, and the voices he does are good, unlike Richie’s. Mike has just barely managed to carve a face into the pumpkin Stan bought from him for him, and only with Stan’s eager instruction. The group has stuck a candle in it, and while it doesn’t quite make the quarry look ominous, they all agree it’s cool as they sit with their feet over the edge of the cliff. 

** **

It’s the first time Mike has really properly celebrated Halloween, and he’s glad he spent it with Stan. Actually, he goes home later than he’s supposed to (but he does text his parents so they’re aware) and he goes home the happiest he thinks he might ever have felt. 

** **

**Age: Twelve **

This year, they carve pumpkins together at the end of the driveway up to the Hanlon farm pumpkin patch. Although Mike doesn’t want to admit it, and never will to Stan, he has been practicing as frequently as possible, not even always on pumpkins, since his poor attempt last year. He isn’t sure why he cares so much, and neither are his parents, but he’s improved a lot. 

** **

“You’re carving a wren,” Stan notices, actually able to recognise the carving, which makes Mike feel warm with pride. Stan himself has a dusting of blush across his face. “You remember all that.” 

“Well so do you. Why would I forget?” Mike asks, smiling at his friend. “You’re carving a sheep, though. Not a bird.” 

“I figured you might not care as much,” Stan confesses, barely audible. “And yes, it’s a sheep, but that’s because I’m not keeping it. I’m giving it to you.” 

“Oh. Thanks,” Mike does like sheep, and he likes that Stan knows he likes sheep. “Well, you best take the wren, then. Though I’ve already named it.” 

“Oh, God,” Stan pretends to be distressed by the thought of another ‘Stan’. 

** **

When they’re done, they walk through the pumpkin patches for a bit, holding the pumpkins they had been given close to their stomachs, feeling the warmth of the candles inside. 

“I’m glad you didn’t buy scented candles,” Stan tells Mike. 

“Of course you don’t like them,” Mike grins. “Though I don’t like them much either. They’re sickly a lot of the time.” 

“Next year,” Stan says, “my friend Bill- you remember him- he gets to have a Halloween party since we’ll be thirteen. It’s a bit early to ask, but I want you to come. He’s fine with it.” 

“I’ve never been to a Halloween party,” Mike says excitedly. “I’d love to go.”  
“I’ll get you and bring you there, if it happens,” Stan decides. “My friends are a lot, though.”

“I remember,” Mike replies. “I don’t think I’ve ever forgotten a single thing about time we’ve spent together.”

“Oh,” Stan whispers, and he’s blushing again, looking at his feet. 

** **

For a while, they stare at each other, even as rain begins to fall. Mike barely notices it; he’s too busy trying to piece together why he’s staring at Stan, trying to figure out just what it means. Then, Stan’s parents are calling after him. 

“Till next year,” Mike says quietly, and Stan smiles slightly as he turns to leave. Mike stays in the rain for another half hour. 

** **

**Age: Thirteen**

“My phone doesn’t have Snake already, but I guess everything’s more advanced now,” Stan says as he hurries up the driveway to the Hanlon farm pumpkin patch, his hoodless jacket thrown over his head to protect himself from the rain. 

“You got a phone?!” Mike gasps excitedly, embracing Stan when he reaches him, which makes the other stiffen before relaxing into the touch. 

“I said I would,” Stan reminds him. 

“I know, but I’m still hyped about it,” Mike almost chastises. 

“Well, we shouldn’t text too much _ today _,” Stan says. “We’ll be busy at the party! But before that: costumes. Richie has insisted that all seven of us much.” 

“Seven?” Mike asks. “Us?”  
“You’re my friend,” Stan points out. “They trust you because of that. That makes you one of us. And yeah, you haven’t met Beverly and Ben yet. I didn’t know them when we were eleven. But you’ll meet them tonight.” 

“That sounds nice,” Mike is an optimist, and he’d trust Stan’s taste in anything. “But what group costume requires seven people?” Mike sees the weariness in Stan’s eyes. 

“We all have to dress as fucking minions,” Stan sighs. Mike pats him on the back.

“You know what, I’m having second thoughts about this party.” 

** **

***

** **

Later, just to check that the phone number is correct, Mike texts Stanley.

**Me: **hi ho fellow minion 

**[B]est[I]maginable[R]eallycool[D]ude: **Hello, fellow not-minion. 

** **

It’s new, even if Mike has at this point actually texted people, so it’s a novelty. Knowing that he can talk to Stan whenever he wants to makes him really happy. But Stan is looking over his shoulder. 

“Why is that my contact name?” Stan complains. “It’s hideous.” 

“It’s _ wholesome, _” Mike corrects, and he puts on his minion goggles. 

** **

***

Beverly turns out to be a pretty girl with red hair and too many cigarettes in her dungarees, and Ben a shorter, larger boy with a nice smile. They’re total opposites; Beverly is bold and open, all teeth, but Ben is quiet and sweet, his smiles short and uncomfortable. Still, there’s a connection there, and Mike can’t help but think the seven of them work very well as a group. 

** **

Truth be told, the only people at Bill’s Halloween party are the seven of them and Bill’s adorable brother, Georgie, who is dressed as Gru. Still, it’s a party, and Mike doesn’t even feel uncomfortable at the start of the party, or when Bev and Richie decide they want to smoke, or when Eddie accidentally screams at something or the other, or when Georgie asks if he’s a cryptid. 

** **

Pretty early, Georgie is sent off to bed, and the seven gather in a circle to just talk as that ‘In-A-Gadda-De-Vida’ song plays. 

“Who was your first crush?” Beverly asks the group with an evil grin, and Mike might just kill her, because he’s pretty sure he knows what his answer is, and he most certainly doesn’t want to share that tidbit. 

“Richie,” Bill admits first, their leader into their obvious downfall. Richie punches the air. 

“You were mine too, kind of,” Richie answers. “And then Eddie.” He sends the shorter boy a certain look, and unfortunately Mike thinks that about everybody except for Eddie understood that, since Eddie’s frowning, like he’s trying to puzzle out whether he’s being mocked or complimented.

“Some things never change,” Bill teases. 

“Mine was Bill, too,” Eddie manages to get out. 

“And then Richie?” Richie asks. 

“Shut up,” Eddie says. 

“Mine was just some girl I saw at the library once, before I came to Derry,” Ben contributes quietly. Mike kind of just wants to smother him in platonic affection. 

“Well, mine was Bill, to join the club,” Bev shrugs. 

“Mine was none of your business,” Stan mumbles, folding his arms and not looking at the others. Mike wonders if he’s okay. Richie is about to say something, but he’s stopped preemptively. “And beep-beep, Richie, before you start.”

“I, uh, I don’t really remember mine,” Mike lies, still watching Stan, and he is well aware that the others will Know now.

** **

When the party's over, Stan walks Mike home, since he’s never been to Bill’s before. It’s a full moon. The blood is pulsing in Mike’s ears. Opening and closing his mouth indecisively, Mike wonders if saying this is a bad idea. 

“I’m bisexual,” Mike tells Stan on the walk. For a moment, Mike thinks Stan is stopping, but he keeps going. 

“Okay,” Stan says. 

** **

***

The next morning, Mike wakes up to see a text from Stan, sent in the early hours of the morning. 

**[B]est[I]maginable[R]eallycool[D]ude: **I’m gay.

** **

For about half an hour, Mike doesn’t reply, doesn’t know what to say. Then he sends a thumbs-up and leaves his phone for an hour, cringing at his response, not wanting to see what Stan has to say. Eventually, he looks at his phone again. 

**[B]est[I]maginable[R]eallycool[D]ude: **We’re all going to the Barrens this afternoon. I can come and collect you? 

Mike wonders if it’s too late to reply, though it’s not even near midday yet. So he replies, happy to be proper friends with Stan now, the sort of friend he sees more than once a year. 

**Me: **That sounds awesome! Thank :) 

** **

Mike wonders if Stan feels this happy right now. 

** **

**Age: Fourteen**

Over the past year, Mike has begged his parents countless times whether he might be allowed to join the public school rather than the Catholic one, so he could be with his closer friends, now affectionately dubbed the Losers. While Mike still attends the Catholic school, he sees Stan pretty much every day anyway, and most days he sees all of the Losers. 

** **

On Halloween, Stan shows all of the Losers to the Hanlon farm pumpkin patch, and they go into the house, into the living room, to watch horror movies. At least this year there isn’t a group costume. Mike had wondered once why none of them went trick-or-treating. Soon he learned that the Hanlons weren’t the only people hated by a Bowers, and that his cherished neighbour Henry Bowers spent most of his time hunting the Losers. To Mike, it still seems like a weird coincidence, so he calls it fate. He loves this little band of outcasts. Beverly with her band-aid knees and her furrowed eyebrows, Ben and his books and ever more frequent smiles, Bill with his improving posture and fierce protectiveness, Eddie with his stupid fanny-packs and adorable anger, Richie with his easy grins and jitters. Most of all, he loves Stan with his Stan-ness. Mike knows Stan inside-and-out, even if they’ve only been talking properly for a year, and when he does learn something new about Stan, he automatically loves it, because it’s Stan. 

** **

“Are you sure we can’t just watch Veggie Tale Halloween specials?” Richie requests, barely sitting on the sofa. Nobody complains about his fidgeting, even if he accidentally knocks them. 

“Come on, Richie, all the fun is in being scared,” Beverly disputes. “You’ll be fine. Just hide behind Eddie.” 

“I think I’m a bit scared, too,” Ben says, and Mike wonders if that’s a joke or an attempt to be smooth. Either way, Ben gets Bev’s arms around him, so he doesn’t think Ben, who is obviously in love with her, is going to complain about any misinterpretations. 

“I think Stan’s scared too,” Bill tries, either for Mike’s sake or hopefully for Stan’s sake because something had been mentioned. 

“I am not,” Stan protests. “I suggested this!”

“I think the lady doth protest too much,” Richie says. 

“Hm, you don’t sound scared, Richie. Is this all a plan to touch me? To defile me?” Eddie replies, but he says it as he leans into the hand running through his hair. “Villain.”  
“Oh, I’m shaking in my boots,” Richie grins. 

“Don’t worry, Stan. I’ll hold your hand, but only because I’m scared really,” Mike offers. He wonders if Stan’s hands are soft or rough, and either way he thinks he’d like Stan’s hands. 

“Mike’s a real gentleman,” Bev comments. “You’d take him home to meet your mother- me. I approve.” Mike likes the way Stan flushes. He wonders if he should tell Stan he loves him. 

** **

(He does not tell Stan he loves him.) 

** **

**Age: Fifteen**

This year, the Losers to a roller rink that opened in the summer for Halloween. While they’d been before, Mike isn’t very good at skating, and he knows that makes this the perfect opportunity for Stan to hold his hand. It was another scheme in two long years of self-aware pining. So it had been his suggestion. Still, it’s Richie and Eddie’s first Halloween as a couple, so it’s romantic enough to be cute for them, and Mike thinks that if he doesn’t confess to Stan tonight, Beverly or Ben might confess to one another. And maybe Bill can find someone to fall in love with on Halloween, too, though mostly Bill just tries to encourage his friends to date. 

** **

Before they skate, as always, Stan has to have a drink. Mike, as always, waits with him. They watch the others- Bill reddening and stammering as gorgeous Audra Phillips with a clear crush on him asks if they can skate together, Ben and Beverly skating close enough together so that their shoulders brush but not so close that they are holding hands, Eddie slipping and being caught by Richie before he can fall only for Richie to stumble immediately after and send them both to the floor. Meanwhile, ‘Monster Mash’ seems to be playing on an endless loop. 

** **

As he and Stan move onto the rink, Mike reminds himself of some words of wisdom: sometimes before you can fly, you have to learn how to fall. So Mike falls, and hopes he’s done a convincing job of it. Stan helps him up, and his hands are warm but not damp and not too warm, just right. 

“Are you alright?” Stan asks, but Mike can see how the other boy is withholding laughter. It releases out of him after a moment, giddy, and his eyes sparkle when he laughs.

“You’re evil,” Mike complains. “A sadist.” 

“Come on, would you rather hold my hand or the edge of the rink?” Stan asks, and Mike thinks that mighty straight-up. 

“Your hand,” Mike answers abashedly.

“Then you hush about me being evil,” Stan instructs, smiling. 

** **

Mike tries to suppress the fluttering in his heart as he skates hand-in-hand with Stan. Maybe he’s just got heart disease and he’s seriously misunderstanding the signs. 

“Why is your hand shaking?” Stan asks. 

“It’s not,” Mike denies. 

“I can feel it shaking,” Stan argues. 

“It’s not shaking,” Mike insists.

“Are you scared of falling again?” Stan asks, and Mike wants to say that he’s scared only of falling for him. “You won’t, I’ve g-” Stan was cut short by the two slipping, distracted by their conversation. Mike hits his back, making him wheeze, but with their hands still connected, Stan is doomed to fall on top of Mike. They lie face to face for a moment, staring, somewhat uncomfortable, highly embarrassed. It’s entrancing nonetheless.

“Watch it!” someone yells as they skate past the two, and the moment is ruined. They get back onto their feet and skate, holding hands but less comfortably than before. 

** **

Mike does not tell Stan he likes him, even when Stan makes the adorable comment about feeling like a bird when he drinks, but Ben and Beverly end up kissing before the night is over. 

** **

**Age: Sixteen**

This Halloween, it’s just Mike and Stan, the rest of the Losers busy with this or that, and it makes Mike feel like a child again, and just as giddy. They’re sitting in the Hanlon farm pumpkin patch again, with permission to carve the biggest pumpkin on record in Maine, grown right there on the farm earlier that month. Stan is pretty insistent on what he wants- an entire scene. The farm, most importantly the pumpkin patch and the sheep, with the night sky above, with birds and stars. Fortunately, they’ve both gotten pretty decent at carving pumpkins, even with their arms aching from the effort to scoop out the guts of such a large pumpkin, so the picture isn’t looking bad at all. In fact, both of their parents are watching proudly, and there’s a camera clicking. Mike sees how Stan is beginning to sweat from effort and pressure, how some of those curls are starting to stick to an increasingly pink face. Like an old floorboard, Mike’s heart creaks.

** **

When it’s done, they’re both covered in pumpkin, but they’re both so incredibly proud, and Mike’s mom has made hot chocolate, and the Losers are expressing their love via their groupchat, which has been sufficiently spoiled with photos of Mike and Stan at work. 

“You’re brilliant,” Stan tells him. 

“You’re brilliant,” Mike adds.

“We’re brilliant,” Stan decides. 

** **

When the candle inside the pumpkin is lit, the Hanlon farm pumpkin patch becomes an amazing sight, and the night seems to clear suitably to allow them to see the stars, too. It is undeniably romantic, Mike thinks, his head tilted to the sky. It’s just them outdoors now, their mugs empty, their hands unconsciously intertwined.  
“Stan?” Mike says, looking to the boy next to him now, seeing how his curls move when he turns his head towards Mike. 

“Yes?” There’s something perfectly hopeful in Stan’s eyes. 

“I want to spend every Halloween with you,” he says. “And every other day. I want to go birdwatching and I want to carve pumpkins and I want to go on tack tourist holidays and I want to have an October wedding.” Mike stops himself from continuing, feeling that he has already gone too far. Stan is quiet for one long, dreadful, torturous second.

** **

“I just want to love you forever, if you let me,” Stan replies, licking his lips, his eyes wide. “I can’t imagine a future where you aren’t there.” 

“Can I kiss you?” Mike asks, tightening his hold on Stan’s hand. 

“I don’t know,” Stan grins, unable to resist it, and Mike grins too, “can you?”

** **

(Mike can kiss him. Stan tastes like hot chocolate and breath mints. Mike knows he has never been happier.) 

** **

**Bonus- Age: Thirty-Six**

On October 30th, Mike and Stan have a day free from work, although the children are in school. 

“Richie texted me,” Stan says, his hand clutching the side of the shopping cart Mike is pushing. “He and Eddie are having another vow renewal, gifts welcome.”  
“They must have broken their toaster again or something,” Mike jokes. 

** **

“Here we are,” Mike says, gesturing to the display of pumpkins before them at the supermarket, stopping the cart. Stan purses his lips as he studies the options. 

“Go small,” Stan instructs. “It’s their first attempts, it’ll hide the mistakes more.” 

“One big one, though,” Mike insists. “For us.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, neato! If you didn't enjoy, please don't let me know, I am Fragile!


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